Poor Brother
by BunniesOfDoom
Summary: Between this cold and food poisoning, Ed is not having a good week. Sickfic.


Written for a prompt on my sneezehq tumblr. Content waring for vomit. Set pre-series. Enjoy!

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"Are you feeling any better, brother?" Al asks tentatively, poking his head through the doorway. A weak groan from the bed dashes his hopes.

Ed has not been having a good week.

It had started on Monday, the day Ed had left left for the mission that they're currently supposed to be doing. Ed had woken up stiff and with a sore throat (his brother hadn't mentioned it, but Al could tell from his voice and the way he moved). Clearly the beginnings of a cold. It had progressed over the course of the week until Ed was coughing and sneezing nonstop, but that still wasn't enough to hinder the Fullmetal Alchemist when he had a job to do.

At least until this morning. Ed had woken up gagging, and was barely awake enough to groggily roll onto his side so that he puked on the floor instead of all over himself. Al had cleaned up the mess, firmly told his brother to rest, and had gone to arrange for them to stay here longer, at least until he was well enough to travel.

"Do you think it's the flu?" Al asks.

"Nah," Ed croaks. "I think it was something I ate." Al doesn't have to think back very far to guess at what caused it-the food at the last travel stop had been a bit questionable, but his brother had been too hungry to refuse.

Once again Al curses the metal body he's been given; if he could feel things and he could tell on his own if Ed is running a fever. Instead, he elects to see if the innkeeper has a thermometer he can use. "Do you want me to get you anything else?"

Ed swallows hard, turning a little green. "Maybe grab me a bucket?" Al makes a mental note to find one, and also fetch his brother a glass of water. He must be dehydrated after puking all day.

His brother is asleep when he gets back, so Al sets the bucket beside the bed and carefully slips the thermometer into Ed's mouth. He doesn't want to wake him up after he's finally fallen asleep.

Al waits a minute and pulls the thermometer out. Ed's temperature is normal, which means that his brother was right and it's probably food poisoning. That means that there's really not much Al can do besides keep his brother hydrated and comfortable until it's out of his system. "Poor brother."

He can give Ed the water when his brother wakes up; in the meantime, Al reads through one of the books that they got from the library the last time they were in Central. Hopefully it'll hold some clues about the Stone.

He's so entranced in his reading that he doesn't notice when his brother stirs at first. A loud retch comes from the bed as Ed tries to sit up. There's not enough time for Al to grab the bucket before Ed gags again, then lurches forward with a heave. This one is productive.

To make matters worse, Ed sneezes mid-heave, expanding the splatter zone of the vomit. His brother pukes for several more minutes, groaning as more bile forces its way up his throat and splashes into the pile on the bed. By the time the gags subside and he's left dry heaving, Ed's face, clothes, and lap are covered in vomit, not to mention the mess on the bed.

A loud sniff alerts Al to the fact that Ed's eyes are full of tears-whether from pain, humiliation, or exhaustion Al doesn't know. "Hey, it's okay," Al soothes frantically. "We'll get you cleaned up and you'll feel way better, okay?" He begins removing the soiled blanket, immensely grateful that he can't smell anything. For once it comes in handy.

"Do you remember that time I ate a raw chicken egg and puked for two days straight?" Al talks as he cleans up his brother, stripping away his soiled clothes and wiping away the puke with a damp towel. "Winry had dared me to. You rolled your eyes at me, but you took care of me the whole time. Mom was really proud of you." Ed's eyes dim a little at the mention of their mother, but the tears have stopped.

"Yeah, I remember," Ed whispers softly, lost in a memory of simpler times when their mother was still alive and they were still whole.

"You dared Winry to eat some of Den's food in revenge, but she didn't throw up. I guess that she has a stronger stomach than me," Al says thoughtfully.

By the time Al is finished cleaning him up, Ed's eyes are half-closed. Al tosses a clean blanket over him and makes him drink a little water. "You have to stay hydrated."

Ed drinks obediently, practically dozing already. "Thanks, Al," he slurs.

Al ruffles his hair affectionately with a careful glove. "Anything for you, brother."

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Thank you for reading! Please comment and leave kudos!


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